Effervescence
by Maeriai1121
Summary: Girl meets vampire. Vampire is a snarky jerk. Girl not-so-secretly loves it. She feels like she's read this story before.
1. Slide 1

**Slide 1: Shady**

The door opened, a young woman stepping into the dark apartment with a deep sigh. She moved with the practiced steps of someone who has their home's layout memorized and disappeared into the kitchen, not bothering to turn a light on. After a few minutes and the sound of a window scraping open, a dim light flickered on in the kitchen.

She padded back into the living room, stripping off her jacket and slinging it across the back of the couch. She went and changed into her pajamas and stood in the kitchen for a while making dinner and listening to the street musician play something folksy through the open window. She took her plate and sat on the couch with the television on to eat. She fell asleep mid commercial break sprawled across the couch with one hand behind her head.

Once the television had long since ceased to broadcast actual shows and was just blaring infomercials, she startled awake on the couch, spluttering and almost falling off. A cold breeze blew through the house. She groaned, turning off the TV and grabbing her iPod off the coffee table. The music started as she stumbled sleepily into the kitchen and across to the window, her bare feet chilled against the night-cold tiling. She leaned up, slamming the window down as hard as she could. It scraped closed reluctantly with the encouragement of a string of mumbled curses.

She stumbled out of the streetlight-lit kitchen, through the living room and into her bedroom, feet dragging in the half-stumbling stride of someone who hasn't quite decided to be either awake or asleep. The overhead fan whirred to life with the sudden surge of electricity as she hit the light on and moved to make up the bed. Covers got tugged back onto the bed from the tumbled heap in the floor, straightened, tucked back in, and she turned back towards the middle of the room.

She leaned up to the chain for the light, stretching up with one arm on tiptoe to grab hold of it and then falling sharply back down onto her heels, dragging the cord with her. The light switched off abruptly, the bulbs not even glowing in the darkness. The bass-line of her music pounded deep into her mind by way of her eardrums. She laughed lightly, rising up onto her toes and freestyling a spin back to the foot of her bed.

With a deep sigh, she let herself fall backwards into the mattress, closing her eyes and switching off her music.

A breath that wasn't hers.

"You ought to be more afraid of the dark." The voice was English, a rough and tumble sort of poshness about it, and it sounded very close. Too close.

She stiffened, panic coursing red-hot through her veins, and her eyes snapped open of their own accord despite the overwhelming urge to squeeze them shut and hope the nightmare went away. White teeth, stark against the darkness, grinned at her from three inches above her face. Something in her chilled, thoughts clarifying into crystal in an instant, and logic became a biological imperative. A small thought, timid and cowering in the section that was still supporting fear as a good option, pointed out that the teeth seemed perhaps a bit more…toothy than the average person's. Logic glared at it and, with no small measure of sarcasm, questioned how much time they spent looking at average people's teeth.

The mattress shifted and there was a knee pressing against her thigh. She closed her eyes again slowly, carefully, and stretched her arms above her head lazily. A brush of fabric, the heat of another body told her everything she needed to know. The man was on top of her, a move that spoke of dastardly crimes young ladies oughtn't to know about, let alone be faced with at wee hours of the night, and if he moved one more small inch he would have hands around her wrists, pinning her down.

Panic motioned for control again as her mouth decided to speak. "There is nothing to fear in the dark itself, except those things that dwell in it. And if one doesn't fear that…" She didn't know what she was saying.

The rustle of fabric as he shifted above her, a hot breath on her neck. She felt the barest brush of teeth before he spoke, his words whispering against her skin. "Even vampires?"

She froze. Logic told her he was crazy, a lunatic broke into her apartment. Panic told her to be warier than that, there was something about this guy. The general consensus amounted to "Oh god, oh god." Instead, her mouth took over again, having a conversation she wasn't really sure she understood. "Yes." And a part of her believed it.

Suddenly the weight retreated and quiet laughter sounded. She waited a still, tense moment, and hurriedly inched up to sit properly on the bed, reaching behind her with one hand to switch her bedside lamp on. A slowly brightening puddle of muted light illuminated the bed. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she would look up and nothing would be sitting there.

But there was. He was young, younger perhaps than she'd expected, and well-dressed. His shoes were off, she noted with admiration, and she wondered for a moment if she would find them neatly laid out at the foot of the bed, all parallel lines and right angles. He seemed like that kind of guy, with his navy blue socks and the smartly tailored suit. He smiled at her, something rakish in his expression (the teeth, her mind prodded insistently). "You're very clever, girl."

Somewhere between her smiling back at him and her mind formulating a sensible question, she drifted off to sleep. She knew he was still curled at the foot of her bed, watching her with that toothy smirk, but something primeval inside of her trusted the lamp shining its soft light over them both, trusted the softness it lent to the strange man's features. Trusted the night to keep her safe.


	2. Slide 2

**Slide 2: Warmth**

Will Zimmerman did not make good coffee. He knew that. He was, in fact, reminded of it every morning by Adele Rogers, who-

The door jingled open and he smiled slightly at the flats of coffee beans, wiping his hands on his apron and heading out front just as-

"Will!" And there she was, a cheerful constant grinning at him. Out of habit, he glanced at the clock. 9:55, on the dot. Punctual, as always.

"Good morning, Adele. The usual?" Tall vanilla latte with a shot of caramel (pronounced care-a-mel, not car-mall). Even as he said it, he was already pulling out a cup, marking down the order in shorthand out of pure habit.

"Of course." She slipped her bag off, leaving it on one of the tables, and closed her eyes slightly, listening to the music filtering over the clanking and sizzling sounds of the machines as Will went through the familiar motions. One hand played out the feel of the music on the counter, the tapping lost in the din of sound.

Even at twenty-three, she barely looked older than perhaps the oldest junior student in the chemistry lab she taught. As if to make up for it, she dressed in a slightly more metropolitan than college way, more dresses and blouses than t-shirts in her wardrobe, ballet flats more often than tennis shoes. He had seen her with her students occasionally, when one of them would stumble into the store in a sleepy daze. She was cheerful, informal, welcoming, strange for a science professor. They called her Ms. Rogers, a comfortable mix between respect and affection.

She hadn't bothered to go on and get her doctorate, and she had never given him any reason. He didn't pry. He just made her coffee. "Here you go."

She smiled jovially, breaking out of her music-induced thought, and took the cup from him. An experimental sip and she hummed thoughtfully. "Not bad. The coffee's a bit too harsh, not enough vanilla tempering it, and the caramel is off because of it. Needs more milk and a bit more foam. You're getting there, though."

"Will I ever make your coffee exactly the way you like it?" He sighed at her, only half joking.

She smirked. "Sometimes I wonder." She swung her bag onto one shoulder, turning towards the door and raising a hand in parting. "With practice, though, you will prevail!" She punched the air, her laughter and his following her out the door into the fall morning.


	3. Slide 3

**Slide 3: Blind**

"I don't know how to make coffee." He groaned, looking desperately up at the woman perched on the edge of her (technically sortof their) desk. She grinned, looking so much younger than the age she was supposed to be and incomprehensibly young when you thought of how old she really was. He buried his face in his hands. "Helen…" He rarely called her by her given name, avoiding that measure of closeness. She had no such restraint.

She laughed lightly, leaning over the desk towards him. He lifted his head and decided a moment later it probably hadn't been the best idea. "William, dear boy…" Her hands were braced against the surface of the desk and she was teasing him again, playing that British accent against him. He blushed and she laughed delightedly, sitting up again. "You'll be fine. I have a friend there who will train you and then you can provide the necessary support to the family moving into that neighborhood."

And that was that. It always was with Helen.


	4. Slide 4

**Slide 4: Natural**

She woke up to the faint sound of running water. For a moment of sleep-drenched frustration, she lay with her face in a pillow and cursed muffled angry profanities. Then she threw herself out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom, blinking tiredly as she went to jiggle the toilet lever. It stayed solidly put under her fingers and she frowned at it. With a befuddled moan, she shuffled back to stand by the foot of her bed, wrapping her arms around herself and shivering. She cast a longing look at the bed, some small part of her noting the pair of shoes neatly at right angles by the foot of the bed. Her bed had been so much warmer than the apartment was. After a moment's confused listening, she wandered into the living room and over to the kitchen doorway.

For a moment she just stared. There was a lanky young man in a rather pleasantly dated suit leaning over her kitchen sink with his chin in one hand. He appeared to be watching the water play over the blade of one of her good butcher's knife. It did not bode well for his sanity. She vaguely remembered parts of last night, parts that did not mesh well with how she was still alive. Or, she noticed, how he had apparently done her dishes for her. "You did the dishes."

It was not, perhaps, the best greeting. He spun, knife still in hand, and she watched it drip water onto the floor as he gaped at her. "Hello." He glanced down at his hand, frowned at the knife, and placed it back in the sink with a clatter. "Erm. Yes." A drop of water hit the floor, a delayed reminder of the knife.

She stared at him confusedly, shook her head, and held out a hand. "Adele Rogers."

He grinned suddenly at her, taking her hand firmly. "Nikola Tesla."

-----

_-----_

_Total compliance sometimes works. The invaders might leave you unharmed and just leave._

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-----

The young woman stood with her hand outstretched, a twenty hanging limply from her fingers as she stared at Will with her mouth open. He shifted nervously, gently taking the money from her and slowly, ever so slowly, going through the motions of ringing up her coffee order. "I'm Will. I work with Helen." He softly repeated his earlier words. "You must be Clarissa."

A faint smile broke the woman's face as she accepted her change and shifted the toddler at her hip. "Yes. And this is Emily." Will half-wondered what made them different, why the woman was so skittish, but just smiled and handed Clarissa her scone.

"Welcome to the neighborhood."

-----

-----

"You look frazzled." Will glanced up at the sound of the door, already marking down her order.

Adele huffed and adjusted her blouse. "Shitty morning. I overslept my alarm and lost my mind all at once. Coffee me." Breathing heavily, she glared at her reflection in the mirror on the wall and fixed her hair.

He shook his head, glanced out the window, and handed her the cup. "Your bus is coming down the road. You'd better run."

-----

-----

"A letter. For Helen." Clarissa smiled shyly, handing the small envelope to Will over the counter. He smiled back at her and nodded, slipping the letter into his pocket.

_Dear Helen,_

_The apartment is lovely. Emily is enrolled in her new school and she's already made a friend! I worry about the shocks, but nothing has happened yet and that's better than before. I think the time at the Sanctuary has helped her. Enclosed is a drawing she asked me to give you and Ashley. She misses you both terribly, but you know the fun of unpacking and exploring a new place for a child. I would ask one more favor, though. If you know of any other young talented children, I think it would be good for Em to play with someone like her as she gets older._

_Love,_

_Clarissa_

-----

-----

"Ms. Rogers!" Adele pivoted mid-step, arching an eyebrow at the girl coming out of the classroom behind her.

"Yes?" She took a moment to match a face to a name and smiled. "Sally, right?" The girl nodded enthusiastically. She was obviously young, perhaps even as young as Adele had been not so long ago at this level. "I haven't quite got everyone's names remembered yet. What do you need?"

"I just wasn't quite sure about this worksheet that's due tomorrow…" The girl shuffled through the notebook in her arms, pulling out a sheet of paper.

"Ah, yes. Do you mind if we walk?" Sally shook her head and obediently fell into step. Adele almost remembered doing the same thing with some of her more favorite professors. As they wandered down the stairs and out of the building, she pointed out the girl's wrong answers, explaining concepts with wide gestures and sound effects, turning halfway towards her in stride.

By the time they stepped out of the building into the autumn sunshine, Adele was remembering why she enjoyed fall semester so much. The students were still enthusiastic, not burnt out yet, and the freshmen were full of curiosity and thirst. She waved goodbye to Sally with a smile, then turned the corner grimly. She needed to buy some mace.

-----

-----

"Will! Will! Will!" The little girl ran around the counter, tackling his legs as he finished up his shift. Will grinned down at her.

"Hey, Em." Clarissa stepped up to the counter and leaned over it, looking at her daughter. "How've you been, Clarissa?"

"Good. Emily, leave the poor man alone. He's working." She smiled at her daughter and Will yelped a little as small electric shocks ran through the backs of his knees. Clarissa frowned at Emily. "Don't, Emily! It's not nice."

Will laughed, picking the child up and setting her on the counter. "I'm so used to it, you have no idea."

-----

-----

One, two, three, four. She stopped short, feigning a stumble. _Five_. Damn.

It was past dark on first avenue and someone was following her. Some homeless guy looking for some cash by more forceful methods than begging, probably, or one of the gang members you heard so much about on the news.

The steps behind her sped up, closing the distance even as she hurried towards the next pool of light. One hand slid into her bag, searching for the compact little spray bottle she knew was in there. Somewhere.

A hand on her shoulder. "Hey, lady."

She froze. Her hand came up empty. For a split second, her mind calculated force and impact and probabilities, and then there was a rustle of fabric, a faint whimper, and the hand on her shoulder was gone. Her eyes widened and she pivoted slowly, the streetlight casting her shadow starkly on the concrete.

There was nothing.


	5. Slide 5

**Slide 5: Unseen**

She almost didn't notice the gun until she was pacing back through the living room. The windows were all shut and locked, the rooms thoroughly inspected behind curtains, in closets and cabinets and behind shelves, everywhere she thought could hide a person and all the places that couldn't. Clenching and unclenching her fists anxiously, she hesitantly sat down on the couch, curling up with her hands around her knees.

There was a gun on the coffee table. A practical handgun, smaller than typical law-enforcement weapons, but etched beautifully in black-on-black along the grip and barrel. She stared blankly at it for a moment before the sheaf of papers tucked under it registered.

She went to go get a freshly washed microfiber towel from the dryer, trying to choose the one fabric that probably wouldn't leave evidence. She'd seen CSI, she wasn't about to get pegged for a murder. Covering her hand in it, she picked up the gun and gently moved it a few inches to the side. It really was gorgeous, well weighted, and if she remembered her training in picking guns, a pleasure to shoot.

_Washington State Permit to Carry a Concealed Weapon._ It was a small certificate, unobtrusively official. A threat? But as she took in the information printed in a passable imitation of her own scrawl, she realized that it was a notification. A registration for a gun she had never bought, a permit she had never filed for, had been approved. Someone had bought her a gun and made sure she could carry it.

The small note tucked in-between the various official papers was written in a spiky scrawl that spoke of someone who had once been taught proper calligraphy and found it irritating. _This works a bit better than mace, hm? Do carry it. Snatching hobos into the night is not my idea of a good time._

-----

-----

"You okay?" Will reluctantly traded coffee for cash, peering at her downturned face anxiously. She shrugged, sighing as she looked up at the ceiling.

"Will, have you ever had...I don't know, a stalker or something?" She frowned down at her coffee, squeezing the cup too tight. Her knuckles were turning white.

He pulled her receipt out of the machine, flipping it over to write neatly on the back. "Listen, you just call me if you need a hand, okay?" She nodded, mumbling her acquiescence as she took the receipt. He watched as she pushed open the door, looking tired but otherwise normal until someone brushed past her and she froze, flinching. She stood a moment, eyes wide, until she blinked, shook herself slightly, and continued.

Something was very wrong.

-----

-----

"Will!" A pair of pale fingers waved in front of his eyes as he watched the young woman walk quickly down the street. "Will! You okay?" Clarissa peered at him anxiously, leaning up on the counter towards him.

He shook his head to clear it, blinking at her. "Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Yeah, just worried about a friend. What can I get you?"

"The girl?" She followed his gaze, picking out the figure easily. "She okay?"

"I don't think so."

-----

-----

_She stood in the graveyard like she had so many times before, dressed in black. Mourning, they all said. How awful, to lose someone so close to you. It shouldn't have been awful, to lose someone who hadn't spoken to you in years, but it was. She gritted her teeth, fidgeting with the handle of her umbrella as she stood by the grave._

_Whispered condolences, as if the dead would hear them comforting her, slight touches as they passed her and went back to their cars, went back to the house. She stood by the grave, the earth turning to mud around her, her full skirts swaying in the wind. The wind gusted, buffeting her umbrella, and she fell forward onto her knees, kneeling at the foot of the newly turned earth._

_She couldn't even hear her sobs above the rain._

-----

-----

She whimpered, convulsing without waking, struggling with the sheets as she tried to curl into a ball. A figure stepped out of the shadows, stood by the edge of the bed, watched as tears rolled down her cheeks and she gasped little strangled breaths. A hand found hers, holding it tightly as she shook.

When she screamed, sobbing, and woke, there was a steaming cup of tea on her beside table, the lamp already casting a reassuringly solid pool of light over the bed.

-----

-----

"So when you've finished setting up today, it should look something like this…" She turned towards the board, catching up a marker and leaning up on her toes to sketch the apparatus. For a moment, she was too caught up in making sure she hadn't forgotten anything to realize that even the usual background chatter of her class had fallen silent.

"Ma'am?" Sally's voice broke the silence and for a moment, Adele stood with her back to the class and sighed. "Is that a gun?"

Adele pulled a face at the whiteboard, composed herself, and turned back to the class. Several of the girls were wide-eyed, most of the boys looked impressed. "Yes, it is." For a moment, as she surveyed the students sitting at their lab benches, it looked like there were going to be more questions. But they sat in silence for a few moments more and she smiled cheerfully, clapping her hands. "Alright, get to it. I'll come around and check your set-ups when you've finished."

-----

-----

_Hey, I'm working the evening shift tonight. Want to come by?_

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-----

She was perched on a chair dragged behind the counter, an actual mug in hand, watching the last evening rush wind down. It was a little relaxing, listening to the chatter and just watching everyone else live their lives. As it turned towards seven, the people thinned out and Will leaned against the counter across from her, watching her silently. She looked at him questioningly and he sighed. "What's been going on, Adele? Really."

She looked down at her coffee and, without looking up, moved her jacket aside. He drew a breath sharply and she sighed. "Really?" And she told him. She told him about how she had turned off the light and there had been a guy in her apartment, how he did the dishes and how it had been really weird. She left out his name. As he stared at her, sinking to the floor as the sun set outside the shop walls, she told him how she had been followed, how she had turned around and no one had been there, how scared she had been, how there had been a gun, her gun, on the coffee table.

How she had been having a nightmare and woken up to a cup of tea and the lamp on.

"I'm just not sure whether I should be freaked out or comforted, you know?"

-----

-----

"Magnus?" Will stood in the doorway, watching Adele walk down the street, cell phone pressed to his ear.

"Will? Something wrong?" She didn't sound tired at all, despite the late hour. Probably caught up in her files and her research again, as per usual. He wondered if Henry and Ashley would steal her files and make her go to bed without him there to do it. For a moment, he felt homesick.

He shook himself, frowning and turning away from the door. "I just had a friend tell me something strange and I was wondering if you had heard anything."

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-----

Weeks passed. Midterms came and went. Adele almost got used to finding notes and other surprises around the house. At first, it had been simple. A small slip of paper tucked under her hairbrush, reading only "Good morning." It had made her smile. Then one morning she got out of the shower and walked into the kitchen to find a freshly toasted bagel and cut fruit ready for her, a note tucked under the plate. "Have a good day at work."

It became a near daily occurrence and she almost, almost got used to it. To walking to the door to find her scarf draped over the doorknob, a small note saying it would be cold today perched on top of it. Or the dishes done when she got home from work. Homework left out of the coffee table overnight graded by morning.

It was the small things in life that mattered the most, so they said. And even though she still glanced around nervously, even though it still scared her a little bit, it had been such a long time since anyone had taken care of her like this. She started to look forward to finding them; to scribble little notes back, her rounded script so soft next to his jagged letters.

Some nights, sitting on the couch with the television muted, she almost hoped he would saunter into the room and sit down next to her. She was softening, her guard loosening, but he never came and she never invited him. Until, as she rushed out the door to work one morning, grabbing her coat off the entryway table ("Don't forget your coat."), she stopped for a moment and, grabbing a pen out of her bag, wrote a message back in her own neat handwriting at the bottom of his note. It lay on the entry hall table as she slammed the door behind her, footsteps pounding down the hall.

"Want to have dinner tonight? I'll cook."

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-----

They stood in front of the pantry, his arms wrapped loosely around her neck and shoulders. She found, to her surprise, that she wasn't nervous as she leaned back into him. Something deep inside her, instinct, told her she probably should have been.


	6. Slide 6

**Slide 6 : Socks**

"I think you're charming." She was smiling, oh so earnestly, her knee pressing against his thigh as she leaned towards him. Her hair was still wet from the sudden downpour, her cheeks flushed from the dash for the building.

He was holding a cup of cocoa. He looked up at her, quirking the half-smile that she liked to think was probably fond and saw so often these days. "I'm not sure what I think of you."

She shrugged and laughed lightly in a gesture that rolled her shoulders back and let her head fall against the back of the couch. "That's good enough. Need a place to stay?"

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-----

The door swung open and closed again quickly. A scarf fell to the ground, shoes were slipped off, a briefcase clattered against the floor. The thermostat clicked on, sock-clad footsteps came from the living room, and he stood there in a turtleneck and slacks, grinning at her. "Welcome home."

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-----

"Coffee!" She snatched up the cup, curling her fingers around it and raising it to her face to bask in the radiating warmth. Will laughed and she grinned at him.

The last of the fall-turned leaves were crunchy and falling to the sidewalks in the heavy rains and high winds that November summoned. Her students, when they wandered into the store, more often than not had their heads buried in notebooks, studying furiously.

Adele, though, seemed more relaxed than she had since fall quarter had started. Will noted that the gun stayed firmly at her hip, but she had an easy, cheerful glow about her these days.

He looked away from her, smiling slightly, and caught Clarissa hesitating in the doorway. She arched an eyebrow in Adele's direction and he beckoned her closer. Adele looked up, turning, startled. "Adele, this is Clarissa Evans. Clarissa, meet Adele Rogers."

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-----

There were nights he didn't come home. She would leave him a note and a plate in the refrigerator. Some of those nights, she would wake up to the tang of ozone and charcoal, his arm around her waist and his lips still pressed to her throat in a sleepy kiss. She would sigh and go back to sleep, leaving it as one of those things they never talked about.

Sometimes he just left. She would fall asleep to the electric crackling and slight blue glow of the Jacob's ladder in the bell jar by her bed. It would be days, maybe a week or two before she would come home to him snoring lightly and bleeding all over her sheets. She would cry and he would apologize, never offering any explanation.

She was still a little afraid that if she ever did question him too closely, he would disappear the way he had come, leaving her alone again.

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-----

"So what are you doing for Thanksgiving, Adele?" Clarissa was sitting at a table near the register, Adele across from her. Will leaned over the counter and eavesdropped shamelessly.

Adele shrugged, staring at her coffee, looking preoccupied. She hadn't been herself for a few days. "Nothing, really. I've got a new flatmate and I thought it might be nice to do something with him."

"I didn't know you had a flatmate" and "Ooh, him?" sounded over each other, Will and Clarissa looking respectively perturbed and enthralled.

She smiled fondly, looking up. "Nick. He's very…charming." Will frowned.

-----

-----

_The toaster is broken and I'm assuming it's your fault. Fix it or buy a new one, please and thank you._

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-----

He saw her strolling along the waterfront with someone, lanky and dark against the setting sun. She had a patchwork scarf slung loosely around her neck and his arm was around her shoulders possessively. They looked like opposites, Adele in her fall harvest colors and full skirts, this guy with his tailored suit in navy blue, but she was laughing and he was grinning down at her, tugging at her scarf playfully. He snagged it off her neck and she spun away, giggling madly as she rushed towards him again, hands outstretched to catch her scarf back.

She's happy, he told himself as the light went green and the bus pulled away, and that's all that matters, but he couldn't quite shake the feeling that there was a puzzle here somewhere, that he just wasn't putting it together right, and that time was rapidly running out.

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-----

He was laughing over James Bond movies in the living room and she heard the distinct metal on metal noise that meant he was tinkering and building something again, but she couldn't bring herself to mind because he was really actually very neat, almost OCD about his projects, and besides there were sweet potatoes in the oven and nothing can go wrong when there are sweet potatoes in the oven.

She leaned against the counter and took a breath. Why did she always feel like something awful was going to happen to disrupt these perfect little domestic moments?

But it was Thanksgiving and she shook the feeling off, picking up the knife and an onion to chop. Nothing would happen.

-----

-----

Will shook his head, slipping his coat on in the empty hallway. The quiet sound of good-natured bickering was coming from somewhere. It wasn't getting louder or beginning to involve gunfire, so it was probably Henry and Ashley rather than John and Helen. What an odd little family he had found himself in. He smiled wryly at the ornate rug beneath his feet.

"Will." And there was a hand on his arm. Helen was standing next to him, one eyebrow cocked in greeting. He tried not to stare at her and look unreasonably startled. He wasn't sure he would ever get used to how quietly she moved about.

But her lips were pressed together in a way that rarely boded well. "Trouble?" He straightened, turning more to face her, away from the door, ready to help.

She almost smiled. The world wasn't ending today, then. "I need a favor, if you would."

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-----

Down the harbor, a bullet was narrowly missing a young man to the sounds of static-laced radio chatter.


	7. Slide 7

**Slide 7: Windows.**

A cold breeze swept through the apartment, smelling of damp and threatening snow. She grumbled sleepily, patting at the other side of the bed. "Nikola. Get up and go close the window." There was no murmur of assent, no rustle of fabric, no gentle kiss on her temple in apology.

She moaned quietly, burrowing further into her covers before tossing them back and going to close the kitchen window. It must have blown open, the winds seemed to be whipping up into a storm. She sighed and returned to bed, letting the crackle of electricity and soft blue glow soothe her into sleep.

He would be home before the storm got too bad, clattering around in the kitchen making tea. He usually was.

"Delly!" Emily was out of Will's grasp and running for the door before the bell even sounded. Her mother turned and smiled at the younger woman with a quiet "Good morning, Adele."

"You okay?" Sleet blew into the shop as the door closed behind her. She looked pensive but managed a smile as she picked Emily up and nestled her against her hip.

"Yeah, 'm fine. Just the storm, I suppose, playing havoc on my nerves." And there it was again, that puzzle vs. time feeling, even as Emily told Adele all about her Thanksgiving dinner in excruciating detail and her mother laughed and the storm raged outside, rain moving like miniature oceans on the sidewalks.

"We'll have to wait until the storm eases up to properly search, but our contacts are all worried." She paused, the kind of lengthy tired pause he thinks is indicative of the British, and sighed. "The Cabal is here and they're looking for something, something they're awfully keen on."

"You think it's Nikola?" He leaned against the counter, half-listening to the crackle of frozen rain beating the windows. It was late, it always was when she called, and there was no one really still out to get coffee. "Do we really want to get involved if it is?"

"It would be better for us if the Cabal left or suddenly lost the trail of their quarry. Having them searching here puts us all in danger, the whole Sanctuary. And there's always the risk that our informants may start to blame us for their presence."

"Trust and all that." He mused for a moment, frowning. "Yeah, of course. So once the rain lets up I'll go check out some of the leads?"

"John will help you." There was a smile in her voice as she anticipated his response. He groaned and smiled into the phone as she laughed delightedly.

Sleet and frozen rain turned to snow somewhere around two fifteen in the morning and the sudden whispering silence woke her.

"I didn't think that snow counted as the storm easing up." Will groused, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets and trudging along. John just quirked a smile and shook his head.

"This is the building." He gestured at the blocky apartment building to their right. It was unremarkable, matching the ones flanking it in almost every detail. Will looked at it skeptically, blinking snowflakes off his eyelashes. "Come on."

Will yelped as John grabbed his arm, there was the sudden absence of air, and they were inside the building, along with a small flurry of snow. He cleared his throat, unzipping his jacket, and made for the elevator. "So, what floor?"

There was a firm knock on the door. Adele darted up from the sofa, abandoning her quickly cooling mug of tea in her dash for the door. She flung it open, mouth already opening to scold and greet, only to close it abruptly. "Will. Hi."

"Adele?" Will stared at her, neither looking pleased and both rather confused.

"Well," John drawled lazily under his breath, a small smirk creeping onto his face, "It seems Nikola's taken up some new company."

She was perched tensely on the arm of the sofa, just an arm's length away from him, John leaning against the wall with the insufferable smirk he knew was irritating her. They had been silent since she had stepped aside and let them in.

She sighed, shifting suddenly. "So. Tell me why you're here. And who you are, for that matter, William." He flinched at the censorious tone in her voice, one that his first name hadn't had inflicted upon it since he was younger and in grade school.

He opened his mouth to at least try but John beat him to it. "We're looking for Nikola."

At that she stood, casting a rather disparaging look at John, and went to busy herself tidying things on the entry table. "Well, good luck there. Idiotic man disappeared after Thanksgiving dinner and hasn't been back since, even with the storm. Hell if I know where he is." And a vase of loose change slammed back down onto the table.

Will couldn't stop the words from tumbling out his open mouth as he looked at her, shocked. "You're worried for him."

She whirled on him, took a step towards him. "Of _course_ I'm worried for him, William! The man has spent the last few months being nothing but kind to me and dare I even say it loving. Yes, he is beyond odd and yes he will disappear, but he always comes home before storms get too bad. He does _not_ leave me to worry, not to this length."

She closed her eyes, breathing heavily, and slumped against the table. After a long moment she scrubbed a hand over her eyes and spoke without opening them. "Clearly I don't know everything about him, maybe not even half." Another pause. "I'm sorry for shouting."

Will shifted on the sofa, facing more firmly towards her, and extended his hand. "I am still your friend, Adele." She opened her eyes and looked at him tiredly and he nodded slightly. "Come on, sit. Give us half a chance."

She took a half step towards him.

And then there was the pound and scrape of the sticky kitchen window being slid open and a low groan and she shrieked, stumbling as she dashed into the kitchen.

Will didn't have to stop John from going after her as they heard her choked "Nikola!" and stifled sobs accompanied by the thump that must've been her knees hitting the linoleum. They had both stood at the sound of the window, as she left the room, but were frozen even as they both heard the wry tone, weakened and rough, make its reply. "Honey, I'm home."

Then she was shrieking again, shouting for Will in a barely controlled tone of hysteria.

Will was becoming somewhat used to having to work outside of his training and stand in as some kind of trauma nurse. And it turned out, not too surprisingly, that John was a dab hand with a bandage.

Adele was sitting at the head of the bed, her fingers woven through Nikola's as he drifted in and out of consciousness. John looked up at her, betraying his experience somewhat as he snipped and taped a bandage without looking. "Don't worry too much. He heals quickly."

She quirked a smile at that, huffing out a laugh. "Oh, I know. Stupid man comes home bleeding half the time and leaves me to keep him from getting the sheets all dirty and patch him up. He's always fine by the next morning. This is just the worst I've ever seen him…" She trailed off, running a hand through his hair absently.

And then she was firm, focused, as she foled her hands in her lap. "How did this happen? What are you three in?"

Will and John exchanged looks and then Will sighed. "Pack a bag. We'll need to be gone for a few days, maybe longer. And pack one for him as well." Adele bristled and he reached out a hand soothingly. "We will explain. The people who did this may have followed him and we all need to be somewhere safe. And….well, it's easier to show than tell. Trust me, I've been the new kid once too."


End file.
